internationale

Remember lunchtime in grade school, middle school and high school? That 45 minute hour of minimally-supervised trauma that happened every day at 11:05am? Your social status could veer up and down every day – on the better days you were accepted at a popular table, only to be shunned the next for some minor tween-age infraction. To make matters worse, unless your mom sent food with you from home, you had to eat cafeteria food. And more than likely, you had to eat it on an industrial plastic lunch tray, segmented to keep your grey green beans from touching your greasy pizza, and to keep the milk carton from sliding onto the floor when the jocks pushed you around. Grim.